


The Alley

by Titti



Category: Blind Justice (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-15
Updated: 2005-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim, Marty, an alley, and plenty of testosterone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alley

Jim sat in the car, tense beyond reason. Riding with Marty was making him itchy. Damn the Lieutenant for forcing them to work together. It would help them understand each other, he had proclaimed. As it was, they were lucky they hadn't killed each other.

"We need to find the girlfriend, and also talk to his cousin, the one in Astoria," Jim said as he rested his hand on the open car window. He didn't know why he was talking, rambling in fact, but it was better than insulting his temporary partner.

Obviously, he wasn't successful, because he heard Marty slap the wheel before the care sped through the empty NY streets. The car skid, its wheels screeched on the asphalt before coming to a complete stop.

"Get out; get the fuck out!" Marty opened the door and jumped out.

Jim stayed in his seat, trying to determine where they were, but the city had gone uncharacteristically quiet, even for this time of the night. He wasn't really afraid; Marty wouldn't hurt him, but he still felt weak, exposed, vulnerable. He almost reached for his gun, but stopped, because he knew that it would only serve to show his fears.

Swallowing hard, his hand search for the car handle. Jim took the cane from his rain coat and unfolded it, touching the ground as he got out of the car. His steps resonated as he walked toward his partner. An alley, they were in an alley. The smell of rotting garbage from the far end confirmed it.

"What are we doing, Marty?" he asked with the false bravado that he always showed at work. "If this isn't another of your games..."

Jim flinched when Marty grabbed his coat and pushed him toward a wall. He hadn't even heard Marty move; that proved how nervous he was, but damn, he hated not being the best, not being on top of every situation, not having that edge.

He took a deep breath, and his fingers run over the wall. It was a brick wall, no siding, and knowing this little detail helped him calm down. He was still good; he was still a cop, and Marty couldn't intimidate him.

"I thought you'd stop," came Marty's voice so close that Jim could almost taste it, and he did his best to stay calm.

"I don't know what're talking about?" Jim folded his cane with calculated tranquillity. "Maybe if you'd talk to me-"

"Talk to you, Jim? You don't want to talk. You want to give goddamn orders. You think you run the squad. Fuck you, Jim. You're just a cop like us. Being blind doesn't make you a star."

Jim laughed mirthlessly. "Is that what you think? You think I feel like a star? You're an idiot, Marty." He tensed as the words left his mouth. He really was in no position to antagonize the other man. Marty was still a cop, and he could see where he aimed.

The punch he had expected never came. Jim could feel Marty's hands still gripping the lapel of his coat, pressing against his chest. Marty's breath warmed his face as he recognized the smell of coffee, probably the sludge from the office, and mint from the gum.

He tried to guess what Marty was doing, but couldn't. He couldn't hear or feel any movement. He tried to slow his breathing, trying to hear over his own heartbeat. "I don't think I'm a star," he said, trying to get a reaction, anything that could tell him what was happening.

"No, you're not, but you think you are. You walks around the precinct like you own it...until you bang on a chair that isn't what it supposed to be, and then you act like a martyr, like I'm doing god knows what. You know what? I don't have to worry about chairs with cops, real cops. You... Fuck the chair, with you I have to worry that you'll get one of us killed."

"I'd die rather than put anyone in danger," Jim replied angrily.

Jim flinched when he heard the sudden noise. It took a moment to decipher the fist against the brick, and then Marty got closer. Jim could feel the other man a breath away from him.

"I don't want you dead."

Jim wished that he could see Marty's face, see his expression, because he wasn't hearing right. There couldn't be sorrow, sadness??? No, he was hearing that, but... Reaching out with one hand, he began tracing Marty's face, frown deepening as he felt the tension on Marty's face.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Jim felt Marty's lips move under his fingers, and he couldn't be wrong this time. He didn't hear anger, or at least not exclusively.

"I wanted to see how you look." Jim smiled. "So what? You care for me."

"I don't want no cop dead. Is that clear?" The anger was back, but Jim kept smiling because now he could hear the lust beneath it.

"I don't want anyone dead, either, but we can't keep doing this, or the Loo will kill us both."

"Yeah, so what do you propose?"

The challenge rang clear in Jim's ears, and his smile became a full grin. Oh yes, he liked being in charge of the situation. His shrink thought that it was his way to deal with the loss of his sight, but he'd always liked to be in control, and this felt so sweet.

"I think there is something else that we can do when we want punch each other." Jim gripped Marty's jacket, cane still safely held in one hand, and then he moved away from the wall, and toward his partner, kissing him.

The kiss was awful. He miscalculated their noses bumped, almost painfully, but then their lips met, again and again, in the silent night, and Marty was pressing him back against the wall, their bodies tense ready for a fight that was being fought in a duel of tongues.

Suddenly, he was alone in his darkness. Marty hadn't decked him, but now Jim was back to square one, not knowing what Marty was feeling or thinking. "Marty?"

"C'mon, we have a homicide to solve." He almost didn't recognize his partner's voice, but then his own voice had been less than solid a moment ago. Then, he felt a hand on his back, leading him toward the car, but it was only an instant before Marty walked ahead of him.

"You try to get anyone killed, you included, and I'm gonna nail you."

Jim thought he heard the smile there, he certainly heard the amusement, and he grinned too. "Careful, I might be the one doing the nailing."

"After we solve this case, we can decide, hot shot." There was no mistaking the smile this time, but then Marty got into the car, Jim followed, and it was back to work.


End file.
